Untamed (House of Night, Book 4): A House of Night Novel

by P. C. Cast

  Darius held the door open for Aphrodite and me, and we entered the brightly lit shop area of the building. Yes, all three of us had on sunglasses, but the lights still bothered our eyes. I glanced at newly re-human Aphrodite. Well, they bothered at least two sets of our eyes.

  “Welcome to Street Cats. Is this your first visit?”

  I looked from Aphrodite to the—

  Nun?!

  I blinked in surprise and felt the urge to rub my eyes. The nun smiled up at me from her seat behind the front counter, deep brown eyes looking alive and sparkly in a pale face that was obviously old but surprisingly smooth and framed by a white-cuffed, black nun-hat thing.

  “Young lady?” she prompted me, her smile not fading.

  “Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, yes. This is the first time I’ve been to Street Cats,” I said not brilliantly. My mind was racing. What was a nun doing here? Then from my side vision, I glimpsed another black-robed figure flit by and realized there were more nuns in the hallway off the gift shop. Nuns? Was there a whole flock of them here? Wouldn’t they totally freak when they found out vampyre fledglings wanted to do charity work for Street Cats?

  “Well, excellent. We always welcome first-time visitors. What is it Street Cats can do for you?”

  “I didn’t know the Benedictine sisters were involved with Street Cats,” Aphrodite surprised me by saying.

  “Why, yes. We’ve been running Street Cats for the past two years. Cats are very spiritual creatures, don’t you think?”

  Aphrodite snorted. “Spiritual? They’ve been killed for being witches’ familiars and in league with the devil. If a black one walks across their path, people think it’s bad luck. Is that what you mean by spiritual?”

  I wanted to smack her for how disrespectful she sounded, but the nun wasn’t ruffled at all. “Don’t you think that is because cats have always been so closely associated with women? Especially those considered wise women by the general public? So, naturally, in a predominately male-dominated society, a certain type of people would see sinister things in them.”

  I felt Aphrodite’s little start of surprise. “Yes, that’s what I think. I’m surprised you think so, too, though,” she said honestly. I noticed Darius had stopped pretending to shop and was listening to their exchange with obvious interest.

  “Young lady, just because I have a wimple over my head, it doesn’t mean it has kept me from thinking or having a mind of my own. And I can guarantee you I have had many more run-ins with male domination than have you.” Her smile made her words less harsh than they might have been.

  “Wimple! That’s what it’s called,” I heard my stupid mouth blurt, and then felt my cheeks burn as they turned bright red.

  “Yes, that is exactly what it is called.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve—I’ve never met a nun before,” I said, and blushed some more.

  “That’s not surprising. There really aren’t many of us. I’m Sister Mary Angela, prioress of our little abbey and manager of Street Cats.” She turned her smile on Aphrodite. “Did you recognize our order because you’re Catholic, child?”

  A little burst of laughter came out of Aphrodite. “I’m definitely not Catholic. I am the daughter of Charles LaFont, though.”

  Sister Mary Angela nodded in understanding. “Ah, our mayor. Then, of course, you’re familiar with the charitable work our order does.” Then her brows lifted as she realized what else it meant that Aphrodite was the only daughter of Tulsa’s mayor. “You are a vampyre fledgling.”

  She didn’t sound overly freaked, but I decided this was as good a time as any to let the nun know Satan was in the house. I took a deep breath and held out my hand for her to shake, saying in one big rush: “Yes, Aphrodite is a fledgling and I’m Zoey Redbird, vampyre fledgling and Leader of the Dark Daughters.”

  Then I waited for the explosion, which didn’t happen.

  Sister Mary Angela took her time before responding. Then she took my hand in her firm, warm grip. “Greetings, Zoey Redbird.” She looked carefully from me to Aphrodite and then to Darius, who she raised one gray brow at and said, “You look rather mature for a fledgling.”

  He nodded his head in a small respectful bow. “You are observant, Priestess. I am an adult vampyre, a Son of Erebus.”

  Oh, great. He’d called her priestess. Again I waited for a freak-out that didn’t come.

  “Ah, I see. You’re the fledglings’ escort.” She turned her attention back to me. “Which means you two must be important young women to warrant such attention.”

  “Well, like I said, I’m the Leader of the Dark Daughters and—”

  “We’re important,” Aphrodite interrupted me again, “but that’s not the only reason Darius is with us. Two vampyres have been murdered in the past couple days, and our High Priestess wouldn’t let us leave campus without protection.”

  I gave Aphrodite a WTF look. It really wasn’t like her to have diarrhea of the mouth.

  “Two vampyres have been killed? I had heard of only one murder.”

  “Our Poet Laureate was killed three days ago.” I couldn’t say his name.

  Sister Mary Angela looked upset. “That is dreadful news. I will add him to our prayer list.”

  “You’d pray for a vampyre?” The question seemed to escape my mouth without warning me first, and I felt my cheeks get warm again.

  “Of course I would, as would my sisters.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but don’t you think that all vampyres are doomed to hell because we worship a goddess?” I asked.

  “Child, what I believe is that your Nyx is just another incarnation of our Blessed Mother, Mary. I also believe devoutly in Matthew 7:1, which says ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’ ”

  “Too bad the People of Faith don’t believe like you do,” I said.

  “Some do, child. Try not to paint them all with the same brush. Remember that the judge not goes both ways. Now, what can Street Cats do for the House of Night?”

  My mind was still having trouble grasping the fact that this nun was so totally okay with vampyres, but I mentally shook myself and focused enough to say, “As the Leader of the Dark Daughters, I thought it would be a good idea if we got involved with a local charity.”

  Sister Mary Angela’s warm smile was back. “And, naturally, you thought of cat rescue.”

  I returned her smile. “Yes! The truth is, I haven’t been Marked very long, and I think it’s weird that even though our school is smack in the middle of Tulsa, we’re so isolated from the city. It just doesn’t feel right to me.” She was really easy to talk to, and I found myself opening up to her. “That’s what brought me—” I caught Aphrodite’s frown from my side vision and hastily added, “us—that’s what brought us here. We thought it would be cool if we could volunteer to help with the cats, and also raised money for Street Cats. Like maybe we could sponsor a flea market and give you guys the money we make.”

  “We’re always in need of money and experienced volunteers. Do you own a cat, Zoey?”

  My grin widened. “Actually Nala owns me, and she’d tell you that if she were here.”

  “You do, indeed, have a cat,” she said. “And what about you, Warrior?”

  “Nefertiti, the most beautiful calico in the world, chose me as her own six short years ago,” Darius said.

  “And you?”

  Aphrodite looked like she wanted to fidget, and I suddenly realized that I’d never seen a cat with her.

  “No. I don’t have one,” Aphrodite said. When the three of us stared at her, she shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t know why, but no cat picked me.”

  “Do you not like them?” the nun asked.

  “I like them okay, I guess. It just seems they don’t like me,” Aphrodite admitted.

  “Huh,” I said with a little too much suppressed amusement, and she glared at me.

  “That’s quite all right,” Sister Mary Angela inserted smoothly. “We can still put a willing volunteer to work.”


  Jeesh, the nun wasn’t kidding about putting us to work. I told her we had time to give her a couple of hours or so before we had to head back to school, and she started cracking the whip. Aphrodite automatically coupled up with Darius, clearly enjoying her part in the whole “keep the warrior busy so Zoey can rendezvous with Stevie Rae” (who had not shown yet) plan, and Sister Mary Angela sent the two of them into the cat room to clean litter boxes and brush cats with the two other nuns on duty, Sister Bianca and Sister Fatima, who Sister Mary Angela had introduced to the three of us very matter-of-factly, like it was totally normal that fledglings and vampyres (with their Marks covered) were volunteering in the community. I’m not a particularly slow learner, so by this time I’d stopped waiting for a nun freak-out, and it dawned on me that these religious women were a whole different type of “religious” than my horrid step-loser and his People of Faith sycophants. (Yes, thank Damien for my increased vocab.)

  Sadly, Sister Mary Angela sent me to inventory hell. Apparently the nuns had just gotten in a shipment of various cat toys—a big shipment, like a massive box of more than two hundred feathery, mousey, catty toys—and Sister Mary Angela ordered me to log each separate (and annoyingly perky) cat whatnot into their computer system. Oh, and she also quickly taught me to use their “newfangled” (the nun’s word for it) cash register computer system, and then she gave me a stern, “We’ll stay open late tonight, and you are in charge of the store,” and disappeared into the office that sat beside the boutique part of the store and across the hall from the cats waiting to be adopted.

  Okay, it wasn’t like she actually left me “in charge.” I could see Sister Mary Angela through the big glass window that took up almost all the wall space on that side of the room, which meant that she could also see me. Yes, she was mega-busy, making calls and doing other important looking stuff, but I did feel her eyes on me pretty often.

  Still, I have to admit that I thought it was cool that Sister Mary Angela—a woman who was supposed to be married to God—was so accepting of us. It made me wonder about if I really had been, to use some of the nun’s words, incorrectly painting all religious folks (except for Nyx’s religious folks) with the same brush. I don’t particularly like to admit when I’m wrong, especially since I seem to have had to do a lot of that kind of admitting lately, but these wimpled women had definitely given me something to think about.

  So I was pondering much deeper religious stuff than was my norm, and literally up to my elbows in cat stuff when the door chimed cheerily and in walked Stevie Rae.

  We grinned at each other. I cannot tell you how amazing it is to see my best friend not dead. Not even undead. She looked like my Stevie Rae again with her short curly blond hair, her dimples, and her familiar Roper jeans with a button-up shirt (sadly) tucked into them. Yes, I love the girl. No, she doesn’t have very good fashion sense. And no, I was not going to let what was Aphrodite being her usual bitchy self make me doubt my BFF.

  “Z! Ohmygoodness, I’ve missed you! Hey, did you hear the news?” she said all in a rush in her adorable Okie twang.

  “News?”

  “Yeah, about the—”

  But she was interrupted by a sharp rap on the window of Sister Mary Angela’s office. The nun’s silver brows lifted questioningly. I pointed to Stevie Rae and mouthed, my friend. The nun drew a little pretend crescent moon in the middle of her forehead with her finger and then pointed at Stevie Rae (who was staring at Sister Mary Angela with her mouth unattractively flopped open). I nodded vigorously. The prioress gave me a quick nod, smiled, and waved a welcome to Stevie Rae, and then went back to her phone-calling.

  “Zoey!” Stevie Rae whispered. “That’s a nun.”

  “Yes,” I said in a normal voice. “I know. Sister Mary Angela runs this place. There are two more nuns back in the cat room with Aphrodite and the Son of Erebus she’s keeping busy with some seriously disgusting flirting.”

  “Bleck! Aphrodite and her flirting is so nasty. But, more importantly, nuns?” Stevie Rae blinked in confusion. “And they know we’re fledglings and stuff ?”

  I guessed she was referring to herself with the and stuff comment, so I nodded. (Well, I certainly wasn’t going to try to explain to the nuns about red vamps.) “Yep. Apparently they’re okay with us ’cause they think Nyx is just another form of the Virgin Mary. Plus it seems nuns are not into judging others.”

  “Well, I like the whole not-judging part, but Nyx and the Virgin Mary? Ohmygoodness, that is the weirdest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

  “Which must make it majorly weird, ’cause I imagine being dead and then undead you heard some very weird stuff,” I said.

  Stevie Rae nodded solemnly and said, “So weird that, like my daddy would say, it’d knock a buzzard off a meat wagon.”

  I shook my head, grinned, and threw my arms around her. “Stevie Rae, you crazy kid, I’ve missed you!”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Our big hug was broken up by an annoying waterfall of Aphrodite giggles tumbling down the hall from the cat room to us. Stevie Rae and I rolled our eyes together.

  “What did you say she was doin’ back there, and with who?”

  I sighed. “We were only allowed to leave campus with an escort from the Sons of Erebus, so this warrior named Darius—”

  “He must be hot if Aphrodite is makin’ such a fuss over him.”

  “Yeah, he’s definitely hot. Anyway, Darius said he’d escort me and Aphrodite. She said she’d keep him busy so that we could talk.”

  “Bet that’s a real hardship for her,” Stevie Rae said sarcastically.

  “Please—we all know she’s kinda skanky,” I said.

  “Kinda?”

  “I’m trying to be nice,” I said.

  “Oh, right. Okay. Me, too. So she’s keeping this hot warrior busy so me and you can talk.”

  “Yeah, and—”

  Two more raps on the window had Stevie Rae and me looking up at Sister Mary Angela, who said, “Less talk—more work!” loud enough for us to hear her through the glass.

  Stevie Rae and I nodded briskly like we were scared of her. (Uh, who isn’t scared of nuns?)

  “You go through the box and pull out all of those little gray-and-pink polka-dotted mice—the ones stuffed with catnip—and hand them to me. I’ll keep clicking them into the inventory thing,” I said, holding up the weird gun-looking apparatus the nun had taught me how to work. “We’ll talk while I count cat toys.”

  “Okey-dokey.” Stevie Rae began pawing through the big brown UPS box.

  “So what were you saying about some news?” I asked, clicking off the mice she handed me like I was a shooter at one of those back-in-the-day arcade games.

  “Oh, yeah! You will not believe it! Kenny Chesney is comin’ in concert to the new BOK Arena!”

  I looked at her. And looked at her some more. And then some more. Without saying anything.

  “What? Ya know I love me some Kenny Chesney.”

  “Stevie Rae,” I finally managed. “With all of the crap going on, I do not know how you can take time to obsess about one country music dork.”

  “You take that back, Z. He is so not a dork.”

  “Fine. I take it back. You’re the dork.”

  “Fine,” she said. “But when I figure out how to get Internet access down in the tunnels so I can get tickets online, do not ask me to get one for you.”

  I shook me head at her. “Computers? Down in the tunnels?”

  “Nuns? At Street Cats?” she countered with.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, point made. Stuff is very weird right now. Let’s start over. How have you been? I’ve missed you.”

  Stevie Rae’s frown was instantly replaced by her dimpled grin. “I’ve been just fine. How ’bout you? Oh, and I’ve missed the heck outta you, too.”

  “I’ve been confused and stressed,” I said. “Hand me some of those purple feather toys. I think we’re all done with the gray-and-pink mice.”


  “Well, there’re lots of purple feathers, so we’re set for a while.” She started handing me the long freaky-looking toys. (I definitely wasn’t going to get one of those for Nala—she’d probably blow up like a big puffer fish at it.) “So, what kind of confusion and stress? The normal stuff or new-and-improved stress stuff?”

  “New and improved, of course.” I met Stevie Rae’s eyes and, keeping my voice really low, said, “Last night a fledgling named Stark died in my arms.” I paused while Stevie Rae flinched, as if what I’d just said had hurt her physically. But I had to continue. “Do you have any idea if he’ll come back?”

  Stevie Rae didn’t say anything for a while, and I let her get her thoughts together while she handed me cat toys. Finally she looked up and met my eyes again. “I wish I could tell you that he was going to come back—that he was going to be okay. But I just don’t know.”

  “How long does it take to know?”

  She shook her head, looking really frustrated now. “I don’t know! I can’t remember. Back then, days didn’t mean anything to me.”

  “What do you remember?” I asked gently.

  “I remember waking up and I was hungry—so hungry, Zoey. It was terrible. I had to have blood. She was there, and she gave it to me.” Stevie Rae grimaced with the memory. “From her. I fed from her first thing when I woke up.”

  “Neferet?” I whispered the name.

  Stevie Rae nodded.

  “Where were you?”

  “In that terrible morgue room. You know, it’s off from the side of the school by the south wall and the pine trees there. It has the cremation thing in it.”

  I shuddered. I did know about the cremation thing. All the kids knew about it. That’s supposedly where Stevie Rae’s body had gone.